Taken by Surprise
by VoyICJ
Summary: Beryl Patmore plans a birthday surprise for the Housekeeper but surprisingly not everyone is eager to help. Misunderstandings ensue. No season 5 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

This was written before the infamous 5.06 episode aired. There are no spoilers in this (apart from hints at storylines that have all happened in season 4). It was my attempt to deal with the frustration that was season 5… therefore this piece is not to be taken too seriously. It's unapologetic and pure fluff. Part two will be up on Saturday.

My eternal gratefulness goes to Kouw. She is a brilliant writer, a fantastic beta (famous for her never-ending patience and deserving of an award for not hitting me with a frying pan when I forget to capitalize a word for the 100th time) and most of all she is one of the kindest people I've ever met online.

* * *

><p>Beryl Patmore was a woman on a mission, a mission that up until this point was going far better than she had expected. She was enormously pleased with herself and the amount of stealthy planning she had managed.<p>

But there was only so far she could get with her plans on her own. She had reached an impasse and realized that she had to ask for help. The choice of who she would confide in wasn't a very tough one. There was only one other person she could safely trust with a secret of this magnitude.

"Mrs. Bates," she called out when she spotted the Lady's maid making her way through the servants' hallway. Anna stopped immediately and turned towards the older woman with a friendly smile. The Cook bustled over to Anna and pulled her towards the servants' entrance.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Patmore?" Anna asked. The young woman raised an eyebrow in bewilderment when the Cook looked around nervously, obviously trying to see if anyone was listening to them.

"I need your help," Beryl whispered – as much as she was capable of whispering with her voice.

"My help?" Anna asked in confusion and had to bite back a chuckle when the Cook shushed her. The older woman looked around stealthily again before moving a little closer to Anna.

"I'm sure you know that Mrs. Hughes celebrates a special birthday this Saturday," the Cook said.

Anna felt her cheeks flush in mortification. With everything that had been going on recently, she had completely forgotten about the housekeeper's birthday. After everything the kind Scotswoman had done for her and her husband, the least she could have done was to remember her birthday – even if she wasn't sure whether Mrs. Hughes had ever revealed her age to her. She simply nodded towards the Cook, not wanting to voice a lie again. She had told enough of those in recent months.

"I thought that she deserved a special treat that day – what with how she's always taking care of everyone."

"I will help in any way I can," Anna promised.

"Good, you see, I need a little money to prepare a special birthday lunch for her. The family will entertain in the evening and we wouldn't really be able to enjoy a large dinner then, but we should be able to squeeze in a small, festive lunch. I'd like to prepare her favourite dishes and maybe make a special cake," the Cook rambled excitedly and it touched Anna's heart to see Mrs. Patmore's enthusiasm about doing something nice for her friend. "I obviously can't ask Mrs. Hughes for money from the household funds. I also can't use products from the store cupboard because she's bound to notice and ask me about their whereabouts. So I was wondering if you might speak to Lady Mary and explain the situation to her, maybe the family could offer a little extra money for Mrs. Hughes' birthday."

"I'm sure the family would love to contribute but wouldn't it make more sense to ask Mr. Carson for help? He can ask his Lordship or her Ladyship directly," Anna mused.

Beryl sighed deeply. She had been afraid that the Lady's maid would point out that one weakness in her plan. "You're right of course, but Mr. Carson – for all his redeeming qualities – is the world's worst liar. He'd never be able to keep this from Mrs. Hughes until Saturday." There was no need for Anna to know that Beryl had more reasons to keep this from Mr. Carson; despite their having managed to return their relationship to somewhat of its past state, she still hadn't quite forgiven him for his behaviour during the war memorial discussion.

"I guess so," Anna concurred, although not very convinced by Mrs. Patmore's explanation. "I will speak to Lady Mary today."

"Thank you, your help is most appreciated!" Mrs. Patmore beamed. "There's one more thing. I thought we might also give her a little gift, all of us downstairs."

"That's a splendid idea, do you have anything in mind?"

"She mentioned a hat she's seen in Ripon last week. Now, I've called the shop and …."

"You called the shop?" Anna asked incredulously, barely managing to stop a disbelieving chuckle from escaping.

"Yes, I did! I'm not completely useless when it comes to modern appliances," Beryl replied indignantly but her proud stance faltered almost instantly. "Oh, alright. Daisy talked to the operator, but I managed the rest. Anyway, Mrs. Hutton there immediately remembered which hat Mrs. Hughes admired and has promised to put it on hold for me. It's not cheap but if we all throw our money together, we should be able to afford it easily. I'll gladly provide any money that may be missing at the end." Her aunt's money would be well spent on a gift for the woman that had become such a close friend to her over the last years.

"And you want me to pick it up when I go there on Friday to bring Lady Mary's dress to the cleaners?" Anna asked with a smile.

"Exactly. I mean, you're going anyway and I really couldn't explain why I'd need a halfday to go to Ripon."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Patmore. I'll be glad to do it. I could also covertly help you collect the money from the other servants. It might seem more inconspicuous if you weren't suddenly seen conferring with maids and hallboys."

"Good idea, Mrs. Bates. I knew why I came to you with this. And if anyone doesn't want to add his or her share, just give me their names, I'll make sure they pay," Mrs. Patmore promised darkly.

Anna couldn't help the tinkle of laughter that escaped her this time. "I'm sure that won't be necessary. I can't think of a single servant who wouldn't want to chip in for a gift for Mrs. Hughes."

"Can't you?" Mrs. Patmore asked, her eyes fixed on the Underbutler who had seconds before stopped from his way to the Servants' Hall to throw an interested glance in the direction of where the two women were talking quietly.

"Come now, Mrs. Patmore, he has become a little friendlier lately."

"Yes, well, just tell him that if I find out that he has done anything to spoil this surprise for Mrs. Hughes, I will gladly acquaint his charming face with my frying pan." With that last sarcastic remark and a smile at Anna, Beryl returned to the kitchen, very pleased with herself. Very pleased indeed.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Mr. Carson."<p>

The Butler looked up from his desk where he was currently decanting the red wine for that night's dinner. While he would readily admit that he was no great fan of all the modern inventions that had found their way into the house over the last few years, the new apparatus in front of him had managed to capture his favour.

"What can I do for you Mrs. Patmore?" he asked and returned his eyes to the decanter, watching it with fascination. He looked up again, startled, when he heard the Cook closing the door to his pantry firmly behind her.

"It's Mrs. Hughes' birthday on Saturday," Mrs. Patmore stated bluntly.

"As head of staff, I'm aware of that," he replied levelly.

"Good, well Anna and I have prepared a little surprise for her – only some of her favourite food to be served at lunch, with the blessing of the family of course, and a small gift of appreciation that Anna will collect tomorrow. Every servant has agreed to give a shilling or two and I wanted to know if you'd like to contribute."

Charles lowered his eyes towards the decanter once more, trying to hide how deeply it cut him that they hadn't involved him in the planning of the surprise. "I don't think so, Mrs. Patmore."

"Beg your pardon?" Beryl inquired incredulously. Surely she had misheard him.

"It's all very well for you to get Mrs. Hughes a gift and I'm sure she will appreciate it very much but it would be quite unseemly for me to join," he declared firmly.

"Unseemly? What… even the family is contributing," Beryl stammered, completely thrown by the turn of events.

"It's only just that they should express their appreciation of her hard work."

"But not for you?" Beryl seethed, tightly locking her hands in her lap for fear that she'd otherwise reach out and shake the butler – or worse.

"Exactly," Charles replied matter-of-factly.

"You are the most infuriating, unfeeling man I've ever met!" Beryl exclaimed heatedly – her temper finally having got the better of her. "At least make sure that you don't ruin the surprise for her before lunch on Saturday!"

In her haste to leave his pantry, the Cook missed the stricken look on the Butler's face.

* * *

><p>By the time Saturday came around, Beryl was at least able to be in the same room with Mr. Carson again. So far the dirty looks she had sent the Butler had gone largely unnoticed by the Housekeeper due to her involvement with this night's dinner party. Breakfast went without a hitch, no servant spoiling the Housekeeper's special birthday surprise (as a precaution she had kept Daisy firmly in the kitchen. As much as she loved the girl, she was dozy enough at times to unintentionally spoil the whole scheme at the last minute).<p>

When Elsie Hughes entered the Servants' Hall for lunch, she immediately noticed the atmosphere of nervous energy there. She looked around the table in the hope of gleaning what had created that atmosphere, but most servants were avoiding her eyes. Some accomplished the task by engaging their neighbours in lively discussions while others were suddenly busy looking for one thing or the other, studying the table top or the opposite wall intently.

"Mr. Carson says that he is to be excused from lunch today. He's too busy upstairs," Mr. Barrow stated when he entered the servants' hall a minute later, taking his seat next to Mrs. Hughes.

Elsie couldn't deny that she was a little disappointed. Birthdays weren't a big deal downstairs but this year neither Mr. Carson nor Mrs. Patmore – the only two people who knew the actual date of her birthday – seemed to have remembered it. She hadn't expected a gift or any such thing but a kind word from the Butler after breakfast would have been nice. And to learn now that he wouldn't join them for lunch when she would most likely not see much of him for the rest of the day, caused another wave of disappointment to wash over her.

Just then Daisy entered with lunch and Mrs. Hughes was surprised to find that the young Cooking Assistant was carrying a bowl of Cock-a-leekie. Before Mrs. Hughes was able to ask after the strange choice for lunch, Daisy had bustled from the hall again.

She enjoyed the taste of the hearty soup, memories of her home flooding her mind. Somewhere further down the table she heard someone whisper that they had expected worse. She paused in the middle of bringing her spoon back to her lips, a strong suspicion beginning to take hold of her.

It was confirmed when a second course was served – unheard of at servants' lunch. The kitchen maids carried plates full of Forfar Bridie into the room, followed by bowls filled with a light spring salad. While the side dish wasn't exactly Scottish, the pastries most certainly were and Elsie couldn't help a soft smile from breaking out on her face. So Mrs. Patmore had remembered after all.

All the servants dug in with hearty appetite. As much as Elsie enjoyed the good food and the nice conversation that had slowly started at the table, she couldn't help but worry about all the work that was still left to be done before the dinner party in the evening. Mr. Carson would not be pleased when he found out that lunch had run late and the last thing she wanted on her birthday was for him to make an unfeeling comment or worse express his disappointment over her slacking work ethics.

When the second course was cleared, Elsie got up and faced her maids, prepared to sternly instruct them on the jobs still left to do around the house. She didn't get very far though because in that moment Beryl and Daisy entered the servants' hall once again, carrying a plate with a lovingly decorated birthday cake between them. A single candle was burning on top of the cake.

Elsie was overwhelmed by the sight in front of her, the cake, Mrs. Patmore's smug smile, the happy faces of the other servants (even Mr. Barrow looked less displeased than he usually did).

"Cat got your tongue?" Mrs. Patmore teased. "It's good to know that some things in this house can stay a secret."

Elsie sank back into her chair before being overrun by the many birthday wishes of her subordinates. She thanked all of them, choked up in light of everyone's kindness. She hadn't even noticed Anna slipping from the room and re-entering with a large box in her hands. The Lady's maid placed the box in front of the housekeeper.

"Happy Birthday, Mrs. Hughes. We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate your kind leadership and your support." Anna's voice hitched at the last part and Elsie gave a nearly imperceptible nod, letting the young woman know that she had understood completely.

Elsie turned towards the gift and opened it carefully. She gasped quietly when she recognized the hat inside. "How did you…?" she asked in bewilderment.

"I'm a woman of many talents, Mrs. Hughes," Mrs. Patmore replied cheekily. Elsie nodded, her eyes lowered in order to give herself the chance to blink away the tears in her eyes.

"I can't thank all of you enough," Elsie said softly; grateful that her voice didn't betray her as the sentimental, old woman that she was. "But I think it's time for us to return to our duties."

"Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Hughes," Anna replied, laughing. "Your dutiful maids and the rest of staff have worked overtime the last two days so that all that is needed from you this afternoon is your final nod of approval. The guestrooms are all ready and await your inspection. But only after you've blown out the candle and read your card."

Elsie felt another rush of tears and this time she wasn't able to stop one of them from spilling onto her lashes. Her unheard of show of emotion caused some of the other female servants to become teary eyed.

"Oh please, just blow out the candle, won't you?" Barrow interrupted the emotional moment gruffly and Elsie was actually glad for his intervention. She hastily wiped the tear from her face before leaning forward and with closed eyes wishing for the one thing she was sure she'd never have.

The cake was carried back into the kitchen, a piece of it promised to every servant after the most pressing matters still left for the dinner party had been taken care of. Elsie grasped her card and quickly made her way to her sitting room – intent on cherishing the card in the privacy of her parlour where she could let her emotions unfold without anyone observing.

She opened the envelope and took out the charming card that depicted some lovely Scottish scenery. The short verse of appreciation inside caused her to tear up once again and she was glad that she could freely cry her tears of gratitude now. She lovingly ran her finger over all the names gathered on the card. So many people had thought of her and worked to make this day memorable for her. She took in Anna's loopy handwriting, Mr. Bates' jerky signature. Mr. Molesley had added a little doodle to his name, which looked ridiculous, and Daisy's handwriting was still almost childlike.

They were all there – everyone except one person.

There was a short knock at her door before Mrs. Patmore pushed it open, carrying a tray laden with tea and two pieces of cake.

"I thought the woman of the hour deserved to get the first piece of cake. Surely your rounds can wait until after this," the Cook declared happily. Elsie didn't have the heart to send her friend away and instead made an inviting gesture with her hand.

Beryl finished readying their tea and Elsie smiled appreciatively at her friend.

"My, my, I feel quite special being spoilt like this," she teased.

"Every woman deserves to be spoilt once in a while."

"I won't disagree with you. Thank you so much, Mrs. Patmore. I can't tell you how much all of this means to me."

"It was nothing, Anna helped," Beryl deflected the compliment.

"I noticed her handwriting on the card," Elsie told her friend. "I also noticed that someone seems to be missing."

Mrs. Patmore sighed deeply at this. She internally debated what to tell the housekeeper but in the end decided that it was best if she knew the truth. "He didn't want to join in. I'm sorry if he has ruined your birthday for you," Mrs. Patmore grumbled, angry blotches of red appearing on her face simply thinking about the Butler's behaviour.

"He has done no such thing, Mrs. Patmore, don't fret," Elsie soothed. It hurt, she wouldn't claim otherwise. In fact it stung worse than she could have imagined, but she tried to force herself to stay practical. What reason did she have to expect a gift from him when she had never given him one (at least not for his birthday)? They usually wished each other many returns of their special day and then took great care to lighten the other's workload throughout the day. In her case she made an extra effort to not tease him too much and she suspected that he usually tried to grate on her nerves a little less than he normally would.

Still, he hadn't even bothered to wish her a happy birthday this time. Disappointment settled over her once again, taking away some of the joy she had felt ever since lunch.

Mrs. Patmore, sensing her friend's shift in emotions, resolutely pushed a plate with birthday cake towards her.

"Maybe it's better this way. Who knows what kind of gift he would have come up with?" Else joked, her hurt feelings manifesting herself in her derisive question.

Beryl gave a sympathetic snort. "Probably an edition of Burke's landed gentry."

"Or a guide to the best international wines," Elsie quipped. Both women were laughing now.

"Probably some dreadful collection of poems," Beryl suggested and put her hand to her mouth to keep her very inappropriate snorts of laughter silent.

Elsie forced a laugh to gloss over the fact that she'd have loved to get such a gift from the Butler – something that showed that he cared about her as a friend, not just a colleague. In order to not put a damper on their mood, she quickly joined Beryl's slander of Mr. Carson's gift giving abilities again.

"Oh god, yes, probably something like female poetry through the ages or some such nonsense," she giggled.

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to the two women, a solitary figure stood outside of the Housekeeper's parlour. The door that was only slightly left ajar hid the person from the laughing women's eyes, but their conversation easily carried outside.<p>

The person's shoulders dropped dejectedly as he pressed the lovingly wrapped gift in his hands closer to him – as if the small parcel needed protection from the cruel words spoken inside.

When another salve of laughter carried through the open door, the person resolutely squared his shoulders, quickly moving away from his place by the door, striding towards the staircase – but not before discarding the gift into the nearest wastepaper basket, not sparing it another glance.

The person wasn't as unobserved as he had thought, though. As soon as he had made his way up the stairs, another person stepped from the shadows, slowly making their way to where the gift lay among the other waste. The second person quickly retrieved the small package, taking in the expensive looking floral gift wrapping, trying to decide how to proceed.

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><p>So who found the gift? Thank you for reading and if you have the time, I'd love to hear from you! Your reviews always mean the world!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you **Kouw** – for everything!

And thanks to all of you for the love for the first chapter and your guesses on who found the gift.

There's a small bow to **olehistorian's** wonderful fic 'Voices' in this (meaning that I stole a formulation I really loved). See if you can catch it.

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><p>After her impromptu tea break with Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes was running late with her preparations for the dinner party. She hastily scribbled some last minute notes for the menus, making sure that the maids knew exactly which plates and cutlery to give a good, final cleaning. She still needed to make her rounds to ensure that the rooms were ready before the first guests arrived in the late afternoon. When there was a short knock on her door, she sighed before turning and calling for the person on the other side to enter.<p>

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mrs. Hughes," Miss Baxter spoke softly.

"Not at all, Miss Baxter. What can I do for you?" Elsie's eyes were drawn to the small, beautifully wrapped parcel in the Lady's maid's hands.

"Well, I'm not sure what I'm doing is exactly right but it's your birthday and I thought you should…."

"Miss Baxter, it certainly wasn't necessary for you to get me a gift!" Elsie interrupted the maid. She was in equal parts confused and touched by the younger woman's gesture. While she thought that she enjoyed a good working relationship with Miss Baxter, she certainly hadn't expected it to warrant an extra gift. She had seen Miss Baxter's name on the card, she had already contributed to the hat.

"I didn't," Miss Baxter clarified and smiled when she saw the Housekeeper's eyebrows lift in confusion. "I more or less found this gift in one of the hallway wastepaper baskets."

"You found the gift among the waste?" Elsie asked in disbelief.

"It's the most apt description of how I came into possession of this parcel," Miss Baxter replied. "I'm sure the gift was intended for you, it being your birthday and all. But even if it isn't, you as the Housekeeper should check who it belongs to or who it was intended for. It seems too pretty to be thrown away. Maybe it was an accident."

Elsie nodded, thoroughly bewildered by the exchange with the Lady's maid.

"I suppose so," Elsie agreed hesitantly. She took the gift when Miss Baxter held it out to her and thoughtfully studied the wrapping paper adorned with intricate floral designs. "Why do I get the feeling that you've only told me half the story?"

Miss Baxter lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back at the Housekeeper. "I have told you everything I could."

Mrs. Hughes nodded slowly. "I will look into this."

Miss Baxter simply gave a short nod in return before leaving the Housekeeper's parlour again, firmly closing the door behind her.

* * *

><p>It took only another moment before her curiosity caused Elsie to carefully unwrap the parcel in her hands. She took special care not to tear the beautiful wrapping paper. As she had suspected, it revealed a book: <em>Poems of Today<em>.

She opened the first page, hoping to find an inscription, a dedication – anything that might reveal who this gift had been intended for and most importantly, who it was from.

She couldn't think of another person downstairs with a similar proclivity for poetry as she had. No one except Mr. Carson maybe.

Her heart started beating quicker in her chest as that last thought flitted through her mind. She leafed through the book to see if there was a card or anything hidden inside but there wasn't.

She sighed in frustration, momentarily unsure of how to proceed. Her finger twiddled with the ribbon bookmark before she impulsively opened the book on the page on which it was placed.

_**Sonnet 29 **_

_I think of thee!—my thoughts do twine and bud  
>About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,<br>Put out broad leaves, and soon there 's nought to see  
>Except the straggling green which hides the wood.<br>Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood  
>I will not have my thoughts instead of thee<br>Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly  
>Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,<br>Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,  
>And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee<br>Drop heavily down,—burst, shattered, everywhere!  
>Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee<br>And breathe within thy shadow a new air,  
>I do not think of thee—I am too near thee. <em>

_Elisabeth Barret Browning_

She was well acquainted with Barret Browning's poetry and although she'd never admit it out loud – it wouldn't do to appear overly sentimental – she held a special place in her heart for the author's poetry on love.

She carefully ran her hand over the pristine page in the book, wondering whether the ribbon had been placed on this page deliberately. She had noticed right away that the bookmark hadn't rested in the middle of the book as it was customary. Was the placement of the silky blue ribbon a hint? Was the poem supposed to send a specific message to the receiver of the gift? Could Mr. Carson really have made such a grand gesture? And what then had made him throw the book away if he had indeed been the giver?

She groaned in frustration; she knew that this mystery wouldn't leave her alone until she had figured it out.

Her treacherous heart began whispering sweet little words to her, made her create pictures of Mr. Carson declaring his love for her in her head.

She shook her head firmly, trying to dispel her ridiculous fantasies. She had played the guessing game over Mr. Carson's intentions and gestures too often not to know better. Still, she'd have to talk to him and see if she could gather some information from him. Otherwise she'd never manage to get her emotions under control again.

* * *

><p>She briskly knocked on the door to his pantry; giving neither him the chance to deny her entrance, nor herself the chance to let her nerves get the better of her.<p>

"Mr. Carson, have you got a moment?" she asked in a business-like tone. He looked up from the ledger he had been working on and managed to suppress a sigh, schooling his expression into an emotionless mask. He nodded and indicated with his hands that she should take a seat in front of his desk.

"You see, Mr. Carson, I find myself faced with a bit of a mystery and I had hoped you might provide some assistance," Elise opened the conversation, her eyes focused on him. Upon his hesitant nod, she continued. "I got a gift today."

"That hardly qualifies as a mystery. It's your birthday, is it not? I would assume a gift nothing out of the ordinary," he scoffed.

"You're right of course. But I wasn't exactly given the gift," she explained patiently.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Charles replied, puzzled.

"Apparently the gift has been found in one of the wastepaper baskets. It would seem that the giver has decided against making his present at the last moment," she studied him intently, trying to find any hint in his reaction. She was disappointed. He didn't even move a muscle as he returned her level gaze.

"And you are sure the gift has been meant for you?"

"Well, I can't be one hundred percent sure of course, but as you've pointed out, it is my birthday. And I can't think of anyone else in this household who would enjoy this kind of gift as much as I do."

"What is that mysterious gift then?"

"It's a lovely collection of poetry. I wonder what could have discouraged the giver," she continued probing. This time she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. It gave her courage.

"Maybe the giver had doubts whether you would appreciate a book filled with dreadful poetry," he replied gravely. His eyes now boring into hers.

"To come to this conclusion, the giver would have had to listen to a private discussion between me and Mrs. Patmore, though. A conversation that was made in jest I might add. I can't imagine the giver stooping to this kind of behaviour," she gave back, her eyes twinkling as she fought to keep a teasing smile off her face.

"I think the giver would find it quite hilarious that you of all people would criticize him – or her – for snooping," he remarked drily.

"Perhaps," she concurred. "From the way you speak I get the impression that you may know who my mysterious giver might be."

"What makes you think that?" he asked, lowering his eyes when he couldn't bear the intense look between them anymore.

"Well, for one, you're an excellent butler. Not much that is going on in this house escapes your notice."

He looked up sharply, disbelieving that she would tease him about this. Not when they had spent weeks trying to move past this sore topic. (He still couldn't believe that he had missed it all – Anna's desperation, Mr. Bates' anger, Mrs. Hughes' burden. He couldn't shake off the unsettlement about her secretiveness, about this whole litany of secrets she had kept to herself, the many facets of her he didn't know at all).

When he looked at her though, he was almost relieved to find her worrying her bottom lip, her eyes downcast in shame.

She hadn't meant to bring this up. Their conversation had been going so well, why did she have to take it too far? "Mr. Carson, I apologize, I didn't mean…," she began but he quickly interrupted her hasty apologies by putting up his hand.

"It's alright, Mrs. Hughes. So if what you surmise is correct and I do know the person who wanted to give you the gift, how can I help you with that mystery? Surely you don't expect me to divulge the identity of a person that wishes to remain private."

"Of course not. I was simply wondering if you could deliver a message?" she felt back on firm ground now, grateful for his understanding.

"I think that should be possible," he nodded.

"Thank you. Would you please tell the person that I have never received a lovelier, more appreciated gift in my life and that I will treasure it always." Blue eyes bore into brown as she hoped that he realized how serious she was about what she had said.

He continued to hold her gaze, taking in the way her eyes had softened during her last words, the way they crinkled slightly at the edges as a soft smile spread over her face. He swallowed and simply nodded in reply to her request, not sure he was able to speak.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson, I truly appreciate your help with this." She got up and was nearly at the door when she turned around again. "I hope I will not appear impertinent, but… could you ask the giver a question when you talk to him?" she asked hesitantly.

"I will if I can."

"Would you mind asking him… or her if the position of the bookmark was chosen deliberately?"

He inhaled and exhaled deeply before nodding. She turned around again to leave when he held her back.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

"I think I was remiss in not saying it this morning. But please allow me to wish you a happy birthday now," he said softly, almost gently.

She unexpectedly felt tears rushing to her eyes. She blinked a few times before smiling brilliantly at him. "Thank you Mr. Carson." With that she turned around and left him alone in his pantry.

* * *

><p>She didn't see him for the rest of the afternoon and she was glad for it. Upon replaying their conversation in her head, she wasn't sure whether she had really managed to bring her point across.<p>

It was with some trepidation therefore that she called him into her parlour when he knocked shortly before dinner.

"Mrs. Hughes, I bring word from your mysterious giver," he opened and she nodded, swallowing in an attempt to keep her nerves at bay.

"He would like you to know that he is glad that you seemed to enjoy the gift and he wishes now that he had given it to you. Especially as he had bought the gift long before Mrs. Patmore had started planning her surprise," Mr. Carson said, still standing in the middle of the parlour.

"So it was a man?" she asked, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"I think you suspected as much before. Yes, it was… is a man," Mr. Carson replied before turning around.

"Wait Mr. Carson, what about the bookmark?" she asked. She needed to know. She saw his back and shoulders tense before he turned around again.

"He said to tell you that he had originally planned to leave the book mark on page 78, but he lost his nerves and therefore placed it on the page where you found it instead," he replied, his eyes the softest she had ever seen them.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." She smiled gently. He simply nodded and left.

She waited until the door was firmly closed before she scampered out of her chair and across the room to where she had put the poetry collection in the morning. She hastily skimmed through the pages until she reached page number 78. With bated breath she started reading.

_The die is cast, come weal, come woe  
>Two lives are joined together,<br>For better or for worse, the link  
>Which naught but death can sever.<br>The die is cast, come grief, come joy.  
>Come richer, or come poorer,<br>If love but binds the mystic tie,  
>Blest is the bridal hour. <em>

_Mary Weston Fordham_

This time she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. She quickly wiped at them, checking her hair in the looking glass before rushing out of her sitting room. She nearly bowled Anna over in the hallway.

"Anna, have you seen Mr. Carson?" she asked urgently and the Lady's Maid looked at her superior in alarm.

"Is everything alright?" the young woman asked, having gleaned from Mrs. Patmore that Mr. Carson had behaved rather unfeelingly on Mrs. Hughes' special day.

"Everything is just fine, have you seen him?"

"I think he's just walked outside. He muttered something about checking up on one thing or the other," Anna explained and was even more bewildered when the Housekeeper didn't say anything in reply, but simply turned around and hastened outside through the servants' entrance.

* * *

><p>She didn't have to look for him long. She was easily able to make out his imposing form in the little garden behind the laundry.<p>

"Mr. Carson?" She fought hard to keep her voice even, her face from revealing anything. He turned around towards her. The Butler looked at her with such insecurity in his deep, brown eyes that she wished she could simply reach up her hand and smooth the wrinkles of concern from his brow.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?" his calm voice reflected nothing of the myriad of emotions she saw dancing across his face.

"I hope I'll not add to your burden, but do you think you might be able to pass on another message to my mysterious giver?" she asked, looking at him demurely.

"I should think so," he replied gruffly.

"Could you come a little closer? I wouldn't want anyone to overhear what I'm going to say. It's really rather private."

He raised his right eyebrow in confusion – they were far enough from the house for her apprehension to be unfounded – before reluctantly moving closer to her. She took another step towards him as well so that they were almost touching. Before he knew what was happening, she had raised herself up on her toes and put her hands on his shoulders. She pressed a gentle, reverend kiss to his cheek before breathing a soft "thank you" into his ear.

His hands came up to rest on her waist, steadying her, pulling her even closer to him. "I'm not sure I quite understood the message, would you mind repeating it?"

She looked at him in surprise but smiled softly when she caught the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. She leaned forward again, but this time when she tried to kiss his cheek, he turned his head and captured her lips with his.

She melted against him as his arms moved higher, one grasping her middle firmly while the other came to rest between her shoulder blades. She snaked her hands into his hair as their kiss intensified, time standing still as all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips against hers, his smell invading her senses. When they finally, breathlessly broke the kiss, his right hand came up to cup her cheek while his other stayed firmly on the small of her back.

"What did you think of the poem on page 78?" he asked softly.

"I think it is lovely. It will be lovely when the time comes," she replied gently. "Do you think it might be soon?"

"Very soon," he rumbled softly. He kissed her again briefly before resting his forehead against hers. "Happy birthday, Mrs. Hughes."

"The best birthday I've ever had," she replied happily.

"I'm glad," he breathed, leaning forward again to kiss her once more.

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><p>There we are, I hope I delivered on the promised fluff. Please leave a review when you have the time. They really, I kid you not, mean so much to me!<p> 


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